


Don't Give Me Roses (i prefer spell books)

by WaifsandStrays



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Floriography, M/M, Magic!AU, gratuitous floriography, should I warn for cats, so many cats, the witch au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4440992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaifsandStrays/pseuds/WaifsandStrays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan Howell doesn't believe in magic. Too bad his new tenant isn't giving him much of a choice.</p><p>The witch AU no one asked for! Featuring: witch!Phil, a crappy flower shop, a thousand black cats named Susan, and an epic quest for true love!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here's How It Was...

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I posted this. I don't know any of the people mentioned in this story and if you found this by searching your own name, RUN RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN.

“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Dan asks, shoving yet another piece of mechanical crap behind a potted plant. His laptop, balanced carefully on top of a box of hydrangea bulbs, emits a heavy sigh. Dan darts back into view and sees his friend Cat slowly lay her head down. She’s rubbing her temples and taking deep slow breaths. Dan knows the feeling. He gives himself migraines all the time.

“Because, like I’ve told you a thousand times already this Skype call, you’re broke and you need some kind of income.” She manages a little smile for him. “You’ve got the shop, I know, but you have to admit that it doesn’t bring in a lot of revenue.”

Dan sits down on an overturned planter and scowls mutinously. “I have to admit no such thing.” His indignation lasts all of twenty seconds. “Alright, I have to admit it, but I don’t have to be gracious about it.”

Cat laughs and lays her head back down on her folded arms. Dan feels a pang of guilt. It’s a bright sunny nine a.m. in London but it must be past four where Cat is. She never complains when Dan drags her onto Skype at all hours even if it’s just to waffle for ten minutes then hang up. He doesn’t deserve her and tells her as much.

“Don’t get sentimental on me,” she says, smothering a yawn. “I’m going to bed. Don’t scare this one off. You need him!” 

The call cuts off before Dan can correct her. He closes his Mac with a click and takes one last look around the ramshackle cottage. The windows - the ones not completely covered with climbing ivy - are dingy and the frames are chipping and the roof leaks in the corner by the sink but it’s got a rustic charm to it all the same. Like something out of a faerie story, Dan thinks sourly.

Of course, what with magic deciding to make itself known with a bang about seventy years ago, fairy tales have taken a slightly different turn. Now they’re all about enchanted iPhones and fortune tellers in hipster glasses with pastel hair. Urban fantasy come to life. If you believe in that sort of thing, which Dan doesn’t.

He drops his laptop off in the store office and sets about opening for the day. Most people would never look at Dan and think, flower shop owner. He tends to dress like he has a funeral to attend every single day and if his shirt doesn’t have some sort of ironic snark all over it, then he actually does have a funeral to go to.

But his grandmother had left it to him and, after spending the majority of his life disappointing her, Dan just couldn’t bring himself to sell it. The first year was… bad. Dan, to the shock of absolutely no one who knew him, was neither a good salesman or very good at keeping anything alive long enough to sell. His mother had spent a good chunk of time carefully arranging business cards for various luck witches under his coffee maker.

The woman his grandmother had employed to bless the gardens and enchant the flowers to grow had only stopped by a few times since the funeral. Dan had been polite but firm when he told her that he didn’t believe in magic or good luck. (Dan’s mother likes to tell him that if he buries his head any deeper, he’ll end up in China. Dan likes to tell her that that’s illogical and highly unlikely. Dan and his mother have a relationship based on mutual affection and sarcasm. It works for them.)

The shop across the street is open already, crystals and shells spread out on the folding tables spilling out the door. The owner, a cheery woman with curly blonde hair dipped in an ever changing pastel shade, waves and smiles big. She hurries over, darting around traffic and waits by Dan’s door.

“Do you have any blue violets and forget-me-nots?" Her voice is louder than Dan expects it to be and he finches on instinct. She blushes bright pink and backs away a few paces. "Sorry. I'm very loud aren't I?"

Dan smothers a laugh and shrugs. "I think I have some violets in the back. I'm not sure about the forget-me-nots though. I'm not very good at this yet."

"You'll get the hang of it in no time. I'm Louise, by the way. Come say hi if you've a mind." She gestures at the shop across the way. Dan peers around her, takes in the stones and smudge sticks littering the displays, and manages a smile.

“I’ll have to pop in and look around,” he says. He’s never going in there. Something must show on his face because Louise is starting to look uncomfortable. Way to go, Dan you prick. “I just- I don’t believe in magic.”

Louise blinks at him, hand caught halfway between her mouth and chest. There’s a beat of awkward silence and then she bursts into giggles. “You don’t believe in magic and you’ve set up shop here?”

Louise has a point. Dan is the only non-magical shop on the block. There’s Madam Zoella’s Beauty Baubles next door, Louise’s shop across the street, and about six more that Dan can’t read from where he’s standing. He shrugs and pushes the door open wide.

“I’ll get your flowers and you can tell me all about how wrong I am over coffee.”

+++

Louise, as it turns out, is very gracious about telling Dan how wrong he is but she does tell him. She discovered her gift when she was in secondary school and nothing was ever the same after that.

“I spent a long time trying to make myself thin and perfect,” she says flippantly, sipping Dan’s mediocre coffee. “Changed everything about myself so many times just trying to be happy. It came to me one night because I’d been sitting at the mirror, tweaking my eye lashes - my eye lashes, Dan Howell - and I thought, ‘What are you doing to yourself?’” Her grip on Dan’s mug is hard, her knuckles turning white. “I wasn’t happy trying to change so maybe I could be happy just being myself.”

Dan leans over the counter and pats her shoulder awkwardly. “So magic didn’t make you happy, then?”

“Not then but later on it did. I met my husband through a support group for the gifted and my best friend Zoe when I caught her using tarot cards in uni. Magic has a way for bringing us all together, those of us who are meant to meet each other.” Louise stands up, brushes dust off her skirt, and holds out her hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Dan Howell, but if I leave Matt alone in the shop any longer, he’s liable to burn it down.”

Dan shakes her hand, charmed despite himself. Louise has such an aura of excitement and joy around her that it makes even Dan want to believe in her world. That aura follows her out the door however and soon it’s just Dan and his thoughts again. His thoughts about his possible tenant who is now forty minutes late for their appointment.

“Guess P. Lester didn’t want the flat that bad after all,” Dan mumbles. He opens his laptop, letting himself fall into the void that is Tumblr. He figures the bell above his door with break him out of his stupor and if not, they deserve to rob him blind. He’s chuckling to himself over a llama gif set when the door blows open with a bang.

“I am so sorry! I overslept and then an old lady on the tube had so many bags and I had to help her home. Then I missed the other train and had to walk all the way here and I am so so so so sorry!” There’s a man in front of him, still panting and rambling about pedestrians and motorists, but Dan isn’t paying attention to any of that. He’s still stuck on the fact that someone actually came into his shop. Suddenly there’s a hand in his face.

“I’m Phil Lester,” he’s saying, strands of black hair sticking to his sweaty face. Dan is fighting the urge to cringe. Sweat and spit are two things he can’t deal with outside of the bedroom. “I was supposed to look at your flat for rent?”

Dan makes himself shake Phil’s hand, pleasantly surprised that it isn’t the sweaty grip of nightmares that he expected it to be. Phil’s hands are pretty nice actually, warm and just a little calloused. His face isn’t that bad either. Although he is starting to look a bit concerned.

“Dan! I’m - I’m Dan Howell.” Dan could stab himself. At least Phil is smiling now and doesn’t look like he’s considering calling an ambulance. “The place is around back, if you want to take a look?”

“That would be great.” Phil has very pretty eyes, Dan decides. Blue and clear and when he smiles they light up. “I’ve brought a few things with me, just a scrying crystal and a word board. Can’t live anywhere with ghosts, you understand.”

Dan blinks rapidly. “Um…. What?”

“I’m a witch. Ghosts come through a lot when we work spells and they interrupt the flow of the whole thing. Grand witches aren’t bothered by them but they mess everything up for me.” Phil pushes past Dan and out into the yard. “There’s a nice plot for a garden! That’s good. I hate having to pay for herbs I can grow myself, you know?”

“You didn’t mention being a witch in your emails,” Dan grumbles. Witches, putting aside his own feelings about magic, make shit tenants. They can just pop off to New Zealand for the month and then when you go to collect rent it’s all ‘but I wasn’t here all month!’ Still, his mother would be disappointed if he didn’t at least try to get someone to split the building’s rent with. He digs the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door. “There’s a bunch of crap in here right now but I can clear that all out.”

Phil isn’t paying attention to Dan though. He’s wandering through and touching the peeling boards with a fond expression on his face. “Is it a cliche to say that I’ve always wanted to live in a cottage? Like something out of a fairy tale.” He grins back at Dan and set his bag on the ground. “I’ll just set up real quick and then we can talk price.”

Dan leans against the wall to wait and watch. Phil takes a wooden board, a white crystal on a gold chain, some kind of blue cloth and - are those fucking pink Yankee candles? Jesus Christ, he’s going to be renting to magical Martha Stewart. Phil spends a few minutes fussing with the lay of the cloth and the board before he lights the candles with a wave of his hand. Dan jumps a little as flames spring to life inside the glass jars.

Maybe Dan isn’t so much cynical of magic as he is scared of it. Maybe that’s a moral crisis for another time. For now, Phil is swinging the crystal in a circle and listening. What he’s listening for Dan isn’t sure he wants to know. Magic and faeries and all that bullshit existing is pushing Dan’s sanity enough for one lifetime, he’s drawing the line at ghosts.

After about ten minutes, Phil seems to come out of it, shaking the strange trance off like rain water. He smiles up at Dan and says, “So what were you thinking, rent-wise?”

+++

It’s been almost a week and Dan has so far, successfully, avoided Phil. It doesn’t hurt that his new tenant decides to do all of his moving after dark and that he always seems to be gone on some errand or another. All in all, it’s working out quite well for Dan.

Except, of course, for the cats. Phil, in true cliche fashion, has about a million black cats. Long hair, short hair, green eyes, gold eyes, blue eyes, and even one truly spectacular hairless female who rules them all. (Of course, Dan thinks she looks like a gremlin out for his blood when she sits in his bedroom window box and stares at him at night. But during the day she’s beautiful, all laid out and sleeping in the sun.)

“SUSAN!” Dan is angry. He glares down at the cat lying in what used to be a slightly wilted patch of snowdrops. It licks its paw and opens one golden eye a sliver, dirt still clinging in patches to it’s fur. “You are in so much trouble. Go. Shoo! Go home!”

Dan pinches the bridge of his nose and swallows a scream. He is going to kill Phil and his cats. Well, probably not the cats. He’ll give them to Louise or something. Susans #1 - 1,000. Seriously who has that many cats?

Dan scoops Susan #12 out of the ruin of his flower beds and carries its filthy self back to Phil’s door. Knocking is a bit hard with his hands full of squirming dirty cat but Dan manages. Phil answers looking flustered and with what looks like half his eyebrow burnt away. 

“Dan! Hi. Um, now is not a good time. I’m having-” There’s a loud bang from inside and Phil flinches. “Shit. I have to go!”

Dan sticks his foot into the gap, stopping Phil from slamming the door even if his foot is smashed in the process. “Fucking ow. Here! Take your demon and keep it out of my flowers.” Dan tosses the cat through the open door into Phil’s arms. He catches the entirely too calm cat with practiced ease. 

“I’m so sorry that he - Brado! Why would you do that?” Phil actually holds the cat up and stares into its eye like a parent with their heathen toddler. “Naughty cat. I’ll fix them later, I promise. But I really have to go now.” He’s pressing on the door again so Dan, in the interest of saving his toes, pulls his foot out of the gap. He tries to ignore the muffled explosions that rattle the windows for the rest of the afternoon.

True to Phil’s word, the next morning the flower beds are pristine and flourishing, without any sign of the struggle that must have taken place. Dan leaves a bundle of sweet william propped against Phil’s door and resolutely doesn’t think about it all day long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floriography notes:
> 
> Blue violets mean faithfulness, I will always be true while forget-me-nots symbolize true love and memories. Both would be common enough ingredients/focuses for a love spell.
> 
> Snowdrops mean consolation/comfort. Just a fun factoid since they don't have much relevance here.
> 
> And sweet william is sign of gallantry and battles well fought! Dan's being a bit of a cheeky shit here while still letting Phil know he appreciates it.


	2. Once Upon A Time...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are meddling witches who meddle and Dan just wants them to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever to crank out and the majority was written on mobile Google docs at work. Huge shout out to my beta/bestie/cheerleader Lexi for kicking my butt into writing this in the first place.

Louise starts coming over every morning to chat and Dan isn’t quite sure why. She never buys anything, except on Friday’s, and she never drinks his coffee either. Once was enough, she says. Are they friends? Is she using him for cheap spell supplies? Dan doesn’t think so. He’s leaning more towards friends. Louise isn’t stealthy enough to be using him.

“So,” she says, drawing out the o. “When am I going to meet your little hedgewitch?” Case in point, she’s too casual. Dan snorts and barely looks up from the begonia he’s repotting.

“Phil comes and goes as he pleases, Lou. He doesn’t have to tell me anything he does.” Dan looks up, wiping his hands on a towel. Louise looks disappointed. “Why don’t you just go back there and talk to him?”

“Because!” Louise explodes. “I can’t just walk into another witch’s territory. It isn’t done. What if he shoots a fireball at me?”

Dan bursts into helpless giggles. “Phil? You think Phil is going to hurt you?” He splutters even harder as she stamps her foot down onto his. “He’s a marshmallow! Look at the fucking cats.”

Louise rolls her eyes. “The cats are a bit much. I’m not sure where that all came from. There’s living the stereotype and then there’s whatever he’s doing.” She’s picking at her nails and stealing glances at Dan underneath her lashes. He knows what she wants and he’ll be damned if he gives in and gives it to her.

“Oh come on Dan Howell!” She’s whining now and clinging to his arm. “Do not make me go out there alone! If he’s so nice, why won’t you go with me?”

“Because you’re a grown woman,” Dan groans. “You don’t need me to go everywhere with you. Take Zoe!”

“She’s even more superstitious than I am! She’d be afraid he’d eat her powers or something stupid.” Louise peeks out the back door, absentmindedly scratching Susan #4’s head. Dan has given up trying to find out where they’re getting in. “Please Dan Howell, do this for me.”

“Okay Louise Pentland,” Dan mocks. “What is with the full name thing?”

 

“Names have power,” Louise says quietly. She isn’t looking out the window anymore and Dan finds himself shrinking back from her blue eyes. There’s a sort of otherworldly glow around her, making her words waver and echo. “It’s very foolish to go around giving out your full name, Dan Howell.” There’s a small tremor and suddenly she’s bright bubbling Lou again. “But, luckily for you, my hunky man slave quota is full up.”

“Ha ha.” Dan shakes himself a little. Louise would never hurt him, not in a million years. He knows that even when guilty butterflies are battering his insides apart. It’s partly because he feels so guilty that Dan hauls himself off his stool and towards the back door.

Louise hooks her hand through his arm and grins wide. "See? I don't need a spell to make you do my bidding! All I need is feminine wiles."

***  
Phil is born in the middle of a snow storm, in a small hospital, surrounded by loving family. He's barely opened his tiny blue eyes when sparks fly from his fingertips. His father's face falls into worried lines but his mother falls into delighted laughter.

"My magical little boy," she'd say, holding him closer. "My Phillip. You will do great things, mark my words."

Phil is brought home from the hospital into a world of magic and spellwork. His mother, like her mother before her, peddles charms and enchantments over the garden hedges, lulls spirits to rest and pulls babies from their mother's wombs.

Between the pixies in the garden and the dryads in the woods, Phil has never wanted for a friend or confidant right up until he starts school. Even when the children there made fun of him for the leaves in his hair and the sparks that singe for no reason, Phil never fights back.

"Magic is a gift, Phillip," his grandmother would say. "A responsibility not to be taken lightly. You have the power to change a life or destroy it forever. Never forget that."

But, as he grows and leaves the frozen north of England far behind him, Phil forgets his grandmother's warnings. He forgets what it means to be chosen, blessed by the Gods.

He falls into chaos and carelessness, taking with no thought to the balance of nature. The scales tip and tip and not in Phil's favor. However, when the time comes for the scales to collapse and balance to be paid, Phil isn't the only one fate steals away.

By order of the High Witch, leader of the coven of England's witches, Phil is given a curse. Always he will wander, seeking happiness, and when he finds it, he'll wander again. No rest, no home, no love. That was to be his punishment.

But his friends pay an even higher price.

Still, Phil takes solace where he can, in helping people like his mother did. He never stays in one place long enough to make friends or to miss anyone he leaves behind. It works. And it will work again. 

 

His landlord is coming up behind him. The cats dart back and forth, twining around Dan's flowers. Phil makes a half hearted effort to scold them away.

"Phil? Can I interrupt you for a second?" Dan sounds nervous, and Phil can't blame him. If he had a six foot two man hovering in a flaming ball in his back garden, he'd be slightly concerned as well.

Phil snuffs the flames out with a thought, settling neatly in a heap on the grass. He grins up at Dan happily. "What do you need?"

Dan still looks slightly scared, which Phil can't help being amused by. He's the total opposite of scary with his Hello Kitty herb pots and rainbow of clothes but massive black clad Dan is scared of him. Precious, really.

"I wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine. This is Louise." Dan steps aside to reveal a sweet looking woman with blonde and pink hair. She's trying to hide behind him like Phil is some kind of a threat but wh- 

He stiffens instinctively when her power bumps hesitantly into his. It's a shimmering purple with the smell of lilacs and sunshine clinging to it. Phil has to bite down on the instinctive urge to drive her away, scare her off, show her that this is his space. There's also an insane urge to pull Dan to him, hide him behind Phil's body. He is part of Phil's territory after all.

Louise knows her manners though and stops herself at a whisper of power to brush against Phil's. She drops her eyes and offers her hand, respectfully presented palm up, to Phil. "Merry met."

"Merry met to you as well," Phil says, holding his palm over hers for a moment. He lets loose a slip of his own power to twine with hers between their palms. Summer and winter swirling together. He doesn't miss the shiver she tries so hard to conceal. He smiles wide to make up for the pain.

"It's always nice to meet someone else who practices the craft," Louise presses on. She keeps wiping her hand on her skirt, Phil wonders if she knows. Her fingers are blistered red from the Northern wind that runs through Phil's veins and he can't help feeling guilty.

They chit chat about the weather and the other witches lining the street, falling into the easy bliss of talking with someone who understands everything you say without a dictionary. Neither one of them notices Dan slipping away.

***

Dan spends a few more minutes watching Phil and Louise out the window. They're gesturing at herb pots enthusiastically and Phil almost puts her eye out when he throws his arms around her. So the tension from before is apparently gone. Good.

He chuckles quietly to himself and gathers Louise's usual order up: violets, posies, rose hips and several sprigs of herbs like hens bane and St. John's Wart. Over the months, Dan's learned to stock a witch’s necessary herbs or lose business. 

The back door opens and he holds Louise's package out without looking. "Here's your order, love."

"Louise already went home. She left out the garden gate," Phil says, sounding amused. He plucks the package out of Dan's hand and opens it up. "I needed this actually. And this. Can I just keep this?"

His eyes are big and wide and he looks like a literal puppy. How's Dan supposed to say no to that? He shrugs and turns back to the empty shop. He assumes Phil's gone but then the package lands back on the counter.

Phil's looking at him, half puzzled. Dan can't help the urge to check his face in the mirrors lining the store. "What's on my face?"

"Why are you scared of magic?" Phil asks instead. Dan doesn't know what to say so he shrugs again. "That's not an answer."

"I'm not scared of it," Dan says finally. "I just don't like the idea of someone else controlling my future. My mum used to drag us to a psychic every year to have our fortunes told. And every year that psychic would tell me things that were the exact opposite of what I wanted to do at the time. And sure, studying hard and all that was good advice and what she was being paid to tell me, but it felt like she was trying to mold me into something I didn't want to be and I was supposed to listen because she 'knew better'."

"That's not magic though," Phil says, laughing a little. "That was your parents trying to pull one over on you. What scares you so much about something that makes life easier for so many people?"

"Life isn't supposed to be easy." Dan picks at his fingernails. "It's supposed to be hard and you work for what you want instead of having it handed to you."

"You haven't got a magical bone in your whole body, have you?" Phil snorts and scoots a little closer. "Magic doesn't make life easier. In fact, you get a whole new set of problems. It sucks trying to figure out if your girlfriend actually loves you or if you dreamed her up. And if your neighbors actually like you or if they're scared of you."

"I'm not scared of you!" Dan snaps, turning to face Phil. "I am not scared of magic. I just think it's bullshit and that luck and fortune and all that shit isn't real. Life isn't easy and it isn't supposed to be. Sue me for having an opinion."

Phil pinches the bridge of his nose. "I never said you weren't allowed an opinion. I'm trying to tell you how you might be skewing that opinion."

Dan still looks mutinous so Phil presses on.

"You're right. Good things shouldn't be handed to a person but life isn't all suffering and pain. There's chocolate and coffee and fluffy kittens. You can't be sad all the time." Phil pauses and says, almost desperately, "Are you?"

Dan shrugs and looks out the window. He's becoming an expert in what the neighbors get up to at the end of the day. "Are you happy all the time? There's mass murders and pedophiles and rape culture. These are all extremes, I know that, but there's still plenty to be miserable about. So no, I'm not sad all the time or even most of the time, but I am realistic."

Phil just stares at him for a few seconds before flinging his arms around him. Dan has a few confusing moments of warm arms and the smell of earth and ozone tangy in his lungs and then it's over. Phil is back on his side of the counter and it's like nothing ever happened.

"You looked like you needed a hug, Dan Howell. You don't have to be happy all the time, you know. I'll be cheery enough for us both."

And the funny thing is, Dan's sure that Phil could be. And the funnier thing is that he's willing to let him try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to only include the floriography notes if they're really relevant to the chapter. Adding a note every time a flower/herb is mentioned takes quite a bit of time for something that's only mentioned in passing. However, St. John's Wart is a healing herb and so is hen's bane. Phil is still Phil after all and he is clumsy :3
> 
> You can leave a comment or encouragement or criticism here or at my tumblr kibumunnie.tumblr.com!


	3. Everyone Knows...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which witchy things happen and something begins...

It’s a slow change, going from wary acquaintances to something that may one day be friends. Dan isn’t sure how to start. It’s been a long time since he’s made a friend on purpose, but Phil is more than up to the task.

He starts showing up at closing time with Chinese food and crappy nineties T.V series box sets for them to watch on Dan’s even crappier T.V. 

It’s nice, Dan thinks, having someone to sit next to and laugh with. Cat’s been traveling for so long that Dan can’t even remember the last time they were in the same time zone.

Phil also has the best stories, every single one leaves Dan rolling on the floor and clutching his sides. Phil attracts the strangest beings, human and not, that Dan’s ever heard of. (Dan’s pretending not to notice how many of his stories now start with Phil’s name.) Dan tells his own share of stories and it’s - different, to say the least. Phil listens, really listens, with his whole body, and Dan never feels like Phil’s just waiting for his turn to talk.

Sometimes they don’t talk at all. Sometimes there’s silence and it’s good. Dan doesn’t feel like their friendship depends on his ability to keep Phil entertained. He doesn’t owe Phil anything. And the more time they spend together, the more Dan comes to realize that. If there’s accidental cuddling once Dan falls asleep halfway through Buffy, Phil’s kind enough not to mention it.

“You seem happier,” Louise says a few weeks later. Dan can’t deny that he is. It’s not just Phil, though having a friend who’s actually there twenty feet away if Dan wants take-out at two a.m. is great.

The shop is finally taking off. The other shop keepers and witches on the block have started to trickle in and welcome him to the neighborhood.

‘I am happy,’ Dan thinks but he won’t say it out loud, doesn’t dare break the spell. There’s always been a shadow lingering at the edge of his life, dragging him down in fits of unexplained sadness, but it’s been quiet for so long that Dan doesn’t dare tempt it.

He just shrugs and goes back to cataloging seeds. Phil asked Dan to come to his house tonight when he closes up and Dan wants to be on time for once. Louise comes up behind him and squeezes his shoulders.

“As long as you know, that’s all that matters.”

***

“It’s not going to last you know,” Chris says, licking a paw delicately. “You like him too much and you know what happens when you like someone.” He gestures at his body - small, feline, covered in plush black fur - as best he can. “Next thing he knows, he’ll have fucking paws.”

Phil flinches and sets his basket of spell ingredients down on the wobbly table. “I’m not going to let that happen to Dan.”

“Oh, cause you like him so much better?” Chris scoffs. It isn’t Chris’ fault that he’s angry, Phil tries to remember. He’d be angry too if his idiot best friend had gotten him cursed into the form of a cat. Chris seems to soften. “Philly, I don’t want you to get hurt. And you will.”

“How do you know?” Phil asks, reaching out to scratch behind Chris’ tattered ears. Chris allows it - barely. Phil gets a scratch across his hand for his trouble.

“I’m a cat,” Chris says primly. “We know everything.” He jumps down from the window box and curls up in the basket by the door. “Like, for example, that your shirt has a horrendous stain on it and your date is halfway down the walk.”

Phil curses silently, darting into his room to change quickly. His hair’s a mess now, sticking up in static clumps. He runs a useless hand through it and rushes back into the living room. Phil barely remembers to hiss, “He isn’t my date!” out of the corner of his mouth to Chris before he’s opening the door.

Dan’s hand is halfway up, frozen in midair. “Knock, knock?”

“I saw you out the window,” Phil explains. He ushers Dan inside, trying to tamp down on the feeling of glee when he notices that Dan’s changed his shirt as well as re-straightened his hair. He fights the urge to look over at Chris in panic and almost swallows his heart when he hears a put-upon sigh coming from the basket. It sounds a lot like ‘wankers’.

Dan looks around. “Did you hear that?”

“No! Nothing at all. Must have been your imagination.” Phil steers Dan into the center of the cottage, a cleared out space Phil’s designated as his workshop. “Sit down please.”

“Phil, what are we doing? I don’t - I told you before, I’m not magical. I can’t do this crap,” Dan says, sitting down anyway. Phil bites his cheek so he doesn’t grin. Dan hates disappointing anyone but he’ll do ridiculous things if Phil asks him to.

“Anyone can do this. We’re going to find your keys. You know, those things you’ve been whining about losing for a week now?” Phil sets his supplies down and sits across from Dan. He hands him the apple and the knife.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Dan asks. He's twirling the apple in his fingers and smiling a little. Phil's heart gives a feeble sort of pang. Dan really has a lovely smile. He slides a piece of paper across the floor.

"Peel it. Recite this incantation and then drop the peel into the water while you concentrate on what you've lost." Phil smiles. "Simple as that."

“Eye of water, go back in time.” Dan hooks the knife under the peel and slowly turns the apple. The peel spirals in one solid red thread into the bowl. “Summon those which can not hide. I call to thee find what has been lost and send to me through struggle and thought.”

“Now close your eyes and concentrate.” Phil takes the knife and the apple away gently, setting them aside.

"Nothing is happening," Dan mutters, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Phil shushes him absently, watching closely. There, just beside Dan's left ear, Phil can see a wisp pressing against the veil. It winks and whispers in Dan's ear.

Of course, he doesn't hear it as a whisper - only a fleeting impression. It's the barest suggestion of where he's left his keys instead of the full fledged conversation it would be to Phil.

Dan's eyes snap open and the wisp fades out of view. His pupils are blown wide and he's looking at Phil in shock. "Holy fuck."

"Did you feel that?" Phil asks curiously. Dan keeps brushing at his ear and fidgeting. Phil's never seen a mundane react so strongly to magic before.

Dan shakes his head. "I felt... It doesn't matter. Let's just go check in the bushes under my bedroom window."

***

Dan's keys are, predictably, right where the creepy disembodied voice feeling told him they would be. Phil is looking unbearably smug about the whole thing. Dan can't stop the occasional shiver from sneaking down his spine.

Phil notices, of course he does because he's freaking perfect, and wraps an arm around Dan's shoulders. "I was shaky my first time as well."

Dan can't help the snort that breaks loose. "Popped my cherry did you? Took my magical virginity and all that." He doesn't want to think too much about the look on Phil's face so he presses on. "I'll be fine, Phil. Don't worry about it."

Phil's still looking at him strangely, eyes soft and almost sad. Abruptly he pulls away from Dan and stands up. "I have to go now. I forgot I have an early appointment tomorrow morning."

Dan stands up to offer to walk him back down the path but before he can open his mouth, Phil is gone.

***

"Goddammit," Phil breathes, looking helplessly around his cottage. Chris pads over and twines around his ankles. He is, for once, being kind and silent.

Phil sinks down to the floor, back against the door and pulls Chris into his lap. "You were right, you know. I like him. A lot."

"What are you going to do about it then?" Chris asks, licking Phil's hand.

"There's nothing to do. I'll ignore it. It's going to be fine." Phil wishes he felt half as confident as he sounds. "You'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! That spell, to locate lost things? Legitimate spell! If you're feeling up to it, try it out and tell me how it worked for you :3
> 
> Feedback is welcomed here or at my tumblr, kibumunnie.tumblr.com!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated, either here or on my tumblr! I don't bite, promise ;)


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